That though the radiance which was once so bright be now forever taken from my sight. Though nothing can bring back the hour of splendor in the grass, glory in the flower. We will grieve not, rather find strength in what remains behind.

Choice word and measured phrase above the reach Of ordinary men.

Men are we, and must grieve when even the shade Of that which once was great is passed away.

Look at the fate of summer flowers, which blow at daybreak, droop ere even-song.

Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers.

Therefore am I still a lover of the meadows and the woods, and mountains; and of all that we behold from this green earth.

And much it grieved my heart to think What man has made of man.